


The Deal

by joonfired



Series: The Adventures of a Single Dad in Space [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, ManDadlorian, Mandalorian, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Protective Mandalorian, Space Dad Mandalorian, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, Western Style Showdown, bringing out the feels with this one folks, buckle up for some ANGST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonfired/pseuds/joonfired
Summary: "Four against one? I like those odds."
Relationships: The Mandalorian & Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian & The Asset, The Mandalorian & The Child (The Mandalorian)
Series: The Adventures of a Single Dad in Space [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549036
Comments: 57
Kudos: 921





	The Deal

**Author's Note:**

> if the baby cries, I will cry

This was the end.

The Mandalorian kept the asset’s cradle closed, the small pod floating quietly behind him as he strode towards the meeting location with the mysterious Client. Bodies made way for him as he made his way down questionable alleys, curious eyes watching but curious mouths wisely saying nothing.

At the Client’s door, the Mandalorian was once again accosted by the droid-eye. As it took its time granting access to the door, he wondered how easy it would be to blast his way inside without all these tedious formalities. 

Once the door closed behind him, musty dark enveloped the Mandalorian and his successfully-obtained asset. He didn’t look back at the cradle, but focused on the simple task of delivering the bounty. This was what he did. This was his life, the Guild agreements were his sustenance, and he should not question that.

And yet . . .

“Ah, welcome back,” the Client said, greeting him with that rusty, Empirical accent. “I trust you were successful?”

The Mandalorian tipped his head in a shallow nod. One hand moved to rest on the grip of his blaster as he and the same four grimy Stormtroopers eyed each other through concealing visors.

The side door opened a moment later, emitting the same frazzled doctor as before. He adjusted his glasses, instantly focusing on the closed cradle hovering by the Mandalorian’s side.

“Is it . . .” he asked, gesturing at the cradle.

“Alive?” the Mandalorian said. “Depends.”

He took a step forward, directing his next words to the Client. “Where’s the rest of my Beskar?”

“Where is the asset?” the Client demanded.

“I don’t like you,” the Mandalorian said tightly, fingers curling visibly around his blaster. “I only like the prize you’re offering. So for us to conclude this untraditional deal of yours, I’m gonna need more weight than your words.”

The Client blinked, one side of his mouth curling up in annoyed amusement at the demand. He clearly expected such resistance, but it wasn’t welcomed.

“Is the asset  _ alive _ ?” the doctor pushed, fingers dancing nervously along the edge of his coat.

“I want to see the Beskar first,” the Mandalorian stated. “I’ve got a lot of questions I’m sure you don’t want me asking that I  _ won’t _ ask if I get what I’m promised.”

He didn’t like talking this much. He wanted to finish this strange deal and try to forget it, though he wasn’t sure how easily he would forget those large dark eyes or trusting innocence. When they said fifty years old, he’d assumed the asset wouldn’t be a child, and yet here he was.

“Fine.” The word dropped heavy with resentment out of the Client’s narrow lips.

He pushed a button under the edge of his desk and a concealed door rumbled open behind him. In the dim room beyond, the Mandalorian saw the promised Beskar . . . and then some.

“Fine,” he repeated flatly.

He reached over and tapped a command into the control panel on his vambrace. The cradle floated over to the doctor, who reached out with trembling hands to open the lid.

The asset peered up expectantly into the doctor’s awed features the same way it did with the Mandalorian, which for some strange reason gave the bounty hunter a twinge of disappointment. But then the asset whimpered and looked around with a worried expression . . . until it spotted the Mandalorian. Then it quieted and made a happy sound, as if this was all a fun adventure instead of a mysterious, troubling future for its life.

Why hadn’t they told him the asset was a child? Why couldn’t he have lived in ignorance of all of this?

“It’s marvelous,” the doctor murmured in wonder.

The asset was still looking at the Mandalorian so it did not seem to notice the doctor reaching for it until the slim man picked it up. He held it awkwardly, like an animal instead of a child.

Like an experiment.

The asset’s face crumpled up, the small wrinkles of its features deepening before it opened its mouth and wailed. It squirmed and kicked, tiny arms flailing in distress. The doctor held it better now, if only to secure it.

“Well done,” the Client said with an appreciative chuckle. “Greef Carga was right. You truly are the best.”

The Mandalorian did not reply. He barely heard the man, his ears drowning in the cries of the child.

None of this seemed right, even from the beginning. If he wasn’t so desperate for bounties, he would never have taken this job. And yet here he was, torn between his promise as Guild member and the tears of an abandoned child.

He had been abandoned once, even though it was to save his life. He did not know the history of this small child, but he could not deny the similarities they shared. He could not deny their bond.

“ . . . you must understand,” the Client finished, pulling the Mandalorian out of his distraction.

As his mind caught up with the rest what he hadn’t been actively listening to —

_ “This is a sensitive matter, so I cannot let you walk away with knowledge of it, you must understand.” _

—he saw the Stormtroopers raising their rifles.

Honestly, he should have seen this coming.

As he ducked the intial round of laser shots, the first thought in the Mandalorian’s mind was  _ not _ how the deal had been broken or that he’d have to steal the hoarded Beskar if he wanted it. No, the first and most prominent thought was that  _ the child was in a room full of stray laser shots. _

“You idiots!” the doctor shrieked, clearly thinking along the same lines. He dropped to his knees, body curled protectively around the child, whose wails had now increased with the commotion.

“Get it out of here!” the Client bellowed at the doctor, and then stood up from the desk with a blaster in hand.

The Mandalorian rolled to the side, pulling his blaster out and returning fire. He caught one Stormtrooper in the neck, its fall a momentary distraction to allow him to reholster his blaster, get to his feet, and lift the rifle from his shoulders.

He swung the forked muzzle of the rifle into a Stormtroopers side, electrocuting it to the floor. And then he immediately punched the butt of the rifle into the helmet of one of the two remaining Stormtroopers, sending it staggering back to give him some more fighting room.

A few days ago he’d taken on a tribe of Jawas and a Mudhorn and survived both. This was nothing.

And yet it was also everything as he saw the doctor disappearing into the doorway he’d first appeared from, the child still screaming and flailing in his arms.

“No!” the Mandalorian yelled, the outburst instinctive and thus catching him by surprise.

He barrelled into the Stormtrooper between him and the now-closing door. The child’s cries were his tracking beacon now.

“Get him!” the Client shouted as the Mandalorian broke free and sprinted for the door.

He flung an arm out, his armored vambrace halting the door’s progress. The mechanics whined and his arm felt the pressure, but a quick jab at the door panel had it opening again.

The Mandalorian ran down the dark tunnel which still echoed with the child’s cries. He turned a corner and saw the doctor about to insert the child into a capsule. For what purpose the pod held, it didn’t matter to the Mandalorian.

He’d made his choice and the child was not leaving his side.

He swung his rifle up to his shoulder, the bolt already slid home and the safety off.

“No, wait, you don’t understa—” the doctor started to say.

The Mandalorian fired, and then caught the child in the cloud of disintegration.

As soon as it felt his arms around it, the child quieted and dug its small claws into the material of his jerkin. It clung to him as he straightened, ignoring the fluttering remains of the doctor.

“I got ya, kid,” the Mandalorian murmured.

There were pounding footsteps drawing near, but he could handle this Empirical remnant. He would run and find another way to retrieve the Beskar from these wrong hands, returning it to the tribes another day.

But he was not giving this child away. He had claimed it now, marking it as his Foundling. Today was not the end.

It was just the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> if I don't get something like this tomorrow I'm gonna feel cheated by Disney+


End file.
